


The Price of Freedom

by Lucem_Tenebrae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Alternate Universe - War, Alternian Civil War, Alternian Empire, Alternian Republic, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Ships will be revealed as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucem_Tenebrae/pseuds/Lucem_Tenebrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Alternia, war is being waged; The Alternian Empire, a civilization of cultural and spiritual diversity ruled through conspiracy and tyranny, tries to maintain power as they battle rebel forces. The self-proclaimed Alternian Republic wishes to make troll society a beacon of democracy and unity—by any means necessary. Lines are drawn and sides chosen as 12 friends become divided by the call of battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Edicts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story and feedback is appreciated. I'll try to update when I can!

>login?  
hivemind  
>password?  
lupanourishme  
Welcome, sire.  
/accessarchive  
Accessing Imperial Archives...  
What would you like to know?  
/edictsofprogress  
Loading 3 Edicts of Progress...

Edict I - The Progress of Strength  
Long has it been necessary to reign in our military for the purpose of stability. To do so, Caste was made a necessity for rank. However, in face of the new foe and in the face of the need for adaptation, this Edict does hereby declare that process null and void. From henceforth, all trolls in our military shall progress from merit in order to ensure that the best and most suited direct our forces. So it is written, so it is truth.

Next? (Y/N)  
Y

Edict II - Progress of Utility  
In our history, the Empire required but two things of its people: that they reproduce, and that all trolls of over 10 sweeps leave the Homeworld. But this is a mistake to be rectified. A new process shall be introduced: Conscription Day, upon which all trolls of 9 sweeps shall become registered citizens of the Empire, and be given genetic evaluation in order for their ideal careers to be decided. Two exceptions to this shall be that those with highly powerful abilities shall be made into part of an indentured labour force, and it shall be that all trolls, sans the newly indentured, may enlist in the military. Furthermore, in order to ensure the protection and function of Alternia itself, following the failure of the Imperial Drone Program, adult trolls may once more dwell upon the Homeworld. It shall also be noted that lifespan increasing nanites, previously reserved for bloodlines of higher caste, shall be sent to all trolls for injection and shall be given to mothergrubs so that any generations that come after the current one shall also have the same extended lifespan, allowing for us to be assured that should our war with this foreign foe extended centuries, it may be fought even after we have passed from this world regardless of caste. So it is written, so it is truth.

Next? (Y/N)  
Y

Edict III - Progress of Culture  
In our society, all trolls follow the Hemospectrum. However many have forgotten its purpose: to ensure balance of civilization and the prosperity of all castes within it. In order to bring back both functions of the Spectrum, Caste Cultures shall be introduced. Each bloodcolor in the spectrum shall receive an examination and declaration of what constitutes that color's culture. Cultural Festivals shall be held for each caste in order to spread and strengthen their Caste Culture. None shall try to interfere with or discriminate against Caste Culture, only looking upon the duties and culture of each caste whenever the Hemospectrum is brought up to resolve disputes. [ADDITION TO EDICT AS OF 3.14.5439450] It shall also be noted that all traditions and religions either historical to a caste or added to that caste's Caste Culture Portfolios shall be respected. [END ADDITION] So it is written, so it is truth.

End of documents  
/inquiry  
What is it, sire?  
Reasoning behind creation of Edicts  
>Loading Historiattacker Statement...

"Following the invasion of Imperial territory by the alien species known as the Humans from their homeworld Earth-Terra, and the subsequent attack on Alternia itself, the Empire came to a realization; adapt or die. In order to increase morale, efficiency, and troop count, the Empire created the 3 Edicts of Progress. After 413 perigees of conflict (hence the invasion now being known as the 413 Perigees War) the Humans vanished back to their own distant galaxy. Both in fear of a future second attack and because of mass popularity, the Edicts were kept after the war." - Valtre Kronit, former Imperial Historiattacker

End of Statement

/exit  
Exiting Archives...  
/logoff  
Logging you off, sire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little something to show how the AU is different from canon. Mostly so I can avoid clunky exposition


	2. Prologue II: A Game of Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes meet

Sollux sighed in relief as he sent out the files to his new 'friends'. Twelve trolls Aradia had told him it was imperative that he meet and interact with them. That they needed to meet, that she needed to interact with them through him.

"Why not a game?"

"A game was exactly what I had in mind. I have everything you need to make it."

"You found all of thith, and you already have it ready to give to me, but you can't even vithit me anymore?"

"Being dead is hard, Sollux. I feel like something is trying to suck me away. So I keep myself busy and focused, no time for just saying hi whenever I want. But something in me knows this all needs to happen. That we're supposed to bond with these people for some reason. Just trust me."

"...It'll need a name. It'll be a pretty advanthed gamegrub. And itth jutht fantathy thimulation right? Tho Thimulation Grub. SGRUB. That'll work."

-⚔-

He shook himself of his thoughts of the conversation that had passed between him and his departed friend. How a ghost accessed a computer he still couldn't fully understand, but he'd seen weirder things before. A ping got his attention. They were all responding. After reading the flood of questions, he posted a memo.

CURRENT twinArmageddons [CTA] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board GAME Q&A

CTA: alriight everyone  
CTA: ju2t po2t your que2tiion2 here and iill try to an2wer them  
PAST arachnidsGrip [PAG] 8 MINUTES AGO responded to the memo  
PAG: How a8out  
PAG: Why the fuck are we doing this????????  
PAG: Let's just all go FLARPing, no need for a stupid wriggler game.  
FUTURE gallowsCalibrator [FGC] 3 MINUTES FROM NOW responded to the memo  
FGC: Y34H B3C4US3 FL4RP1NG W1TH YOU N3V3R 3NDS POORLY.  
CTA: eheheh owned  
CURRENT adiosToreador [CAT] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo  
CAT: uH,,,,,i KiNDA HAVE TO AGREE WITH TEREZI,  
CAT: tHAT DEFINITELY TENDS TO,,,,,UHM,,,,END POORLY,  
CAT: sORRY vRISKA, }:(  
CURRENT caligulasAquarium [CCA] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo  
CCA: hate to agree wwith fuckin landwwellers but im goin to havve to throww my hat in the provverbial ring on this one vvris  
CCA: your a pretty hardcore flarper   
CCA: evven as a shit one  
CCA: wwhich means if this is really supposed to be for a meet n greet thats not a great idea  
PAST grimAuxiliatrix [PGA] 4 MINUTES AGO responded to the memo  
PGA: Vriska Surely You Must Know That Wouldn't Be The Best Idea  
CURRENT cuttlefishCuller [CCC] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo  
CCC: Yea)( I don't even know you that w)(ale Fis)(ka.  
CCC: I've only ever )(eard stuff from -Eridan,  
CCC: and even I know that's a S)(---ELLA bad idea 38/  
PAG: 8k8y 8 fuck8ng g8t 8t!!!!!!!!  
PAG: N8 8ne w8nts t8 FLARP with the fuck8ng sp8der b8tch!!!!!!!!  
PAG: Y8u d8nt 8ll h8ve t8 c8me out 8f the fucking w88dw8rk!!!!!!!!  
CTA: doe2 anyone have an actual que2tiion?  
CTA: you a22hole2 were keen two fuckiing 2pam me wiith them a 2econd ago  
CCC: W)(ale u)(m... Its Sollux right? Saury t)(ese are a LOT of new names for me to )(ake in!  
PAG: Douche8ag also works!  
CTA: 2hut up  
CTA: ye2 2ollux ii2 my name  
CCC: Ocray Sollux, I guess the first question I mollusk is  
CTA: uh mollu2k?  
CCC: Must ask, saury.  
CCA: not your best pun there fef  
CCC: OCRAY S)(---E----ES)(! >38(  
CCC: As I was SPRAYING! I guess I'm just ferry curious aboat, well,  
FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 10 HOURS FROM NOW responded to the memo  
FCG: HOW ABOUT, "HOW DOES THIS FUCKING GAME EVEN WORK?" MAYBE THAT PIECE OF FUCKERY OUGHT OF BEEN PART OF THE INVITE INSTEAD OF SOME VAGUE FUCKING BULLSHIT ABOUT MEETING "THE PEOPLE WE OUGHT TO KNOW".  
CCC: )(------EY! I WAS TALKING! >38(  
CTA: 2eriou2ly kk you 2houldnt cut a lady off liike that  
FCG: FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK WE ALL KNEW THAT WAS THE QUESTION SHE WAS GOING TO ASK. BUT SHE WAS TAKING FOREVER. PROBABLY TRYING TO THINK OF SOME GODAWFUL PUNS TO AWKWARDLY WORK INTO THE PHRASING OF THE QUESTION LIKE A GODDAMN HORNBEAST IN A PORCELAIN SHOP, WITH THE HORNBEAST BEING THE PUN AND THE SHOP BEING EITHER A. THE SENTENCE, B. OUR FUCKING THINKPANS, OR C. PROPER COMMUNICATION AND DECENCY.  
CCC: W)(AL-------E FUCK YOU TOO T)(----EN! GLUB GLUB >38U  
FGC: YOUR3 B31NG PR3TTY RUD3 TO SOM3ON3 YOU BAR3LY KNOW K4RKL3S >:[  
FCG: FUCKING  
FCG: FEFAIRY  
CCC: Feferi. F---EF. ---ER. --E--E. Is t)(at really so )(ard?   
FCG: WHATEVER THE FUCK YOUR NAME IS, THEN! IS THAT NOT THE QUESTION YOU WERE GOING TO ASK?  
CCC: ...Maybe 38/  
CTA: why do ii even have two explaiin the detaiil2  
CTA: why cant you ju2t be ready two play a virtual realiity fanta2y 2iimulatiion game iinvolviing cool prophe2ie2, getting god power2, and collectiing candy-2haped collectiibles from dead 2omewhat retardly programed enemiie2?  
FCG: BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS FUCKING STUPID WITHOUT KNOWING HOW IT WORKS  
FUTURE arsenicCatnip [FAC] 2 HOURS FROM NOW responded to the memo  
FAC: :33 < well i think it sounds purrfectly fun!  
FUTURE centaursTesticle [FCT] 2:25 HOURS FROM NOW responded to the memo  
FCT: D--> Nepeta you cannot be thinking of joining in on this f001ish endeaor  
FAC: :33 < oh cmon equius!  
FAC: :33 < we both n33d to m33t more peopurr! you cat tell me you havent b33n feline furustrated with your present circle furiends   
FAC: :33 < besides didnt you read what pawllux already sent us?  
CTA: er 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < yes, i know. thats what i said!  
FAC: :33 < so as pawllux already told us  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < pawllux  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < pawllux  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < pawllux  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < pawllux  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < pawllux  
CTA: 2ollux  
FAC: :33 < sollux  
CTA: pawllux  
CTA: fuck  
FAC: X33 < h33 h33, dumbass  
FCT: D--> Language, Nepeta.  
PAG: Hahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!! Points to the new girl!  
PAG: I like her already!  
FAC: :33 < as i was saying! as PAWLLUX already said in the invite, no mewderous psychos like vwriskers will be allowed to really hurt anybody!   
PAG: 8kay w8w!!!!!!!! Fuuuuuuuuck you too then!  
FAC: :33 < h33 h33, sorry im trying to convince equihiss! i didnt mean to offend you, vwriskers. although i mostly know you furrom secondpaw accounts i hear furrom him and Purrezi  
PAG: Yeah I get it, don't worry :::;)  
PAG: Actually w8, I get Zahhak, 8ut seriously Terezi????????  
PAG: I know we aren't ex8tly on good terms right now, 8ut are you really going around spreading li8el and slander against me????????  
FGC: 1V3 ONLY 3V3R TOLD N3P3T4 TH3 F4CTS. 1F SHE T4K3S TH3M 4S N3G4T1V3S, 1T 1SNT MY F4ULT YOUR3 4 HUG3 B1TCH. PLUS MOST P3OPL3 H4V3 H34RD 4BOUT TH1NGS ON3 W4Y OR 4NOTH3R. 31TH3R W4Y 1 GU3SS...  
FGC: TH3 C4TS OUT OF TH3 B4G >B]  
CTA: boooooooo  
CCA: haha wwoww, fuckin great  
PAG: Eridan are you seriously gonna let this near 8lackfirting just continue????????  
CCA: hey ivve clouded for you an ter before, i knoww wwhat she looks like.  
CCA: if youre plannin on committin black infidelity against me wwith her, all i wwould ask for is vvideo.  
PAG: Oh my gog youre such a fucking creep! <3<  
FGC: NORM4LLY 1 WOULD 4GR33  
FGC: BUT TH4T WOULD M34N 4GR331NG W1TH VR1SK4, SO 1NST34D 1 S4Y TH4NK YOU, 3RID4N, 1M FL4TT3R3D. >:]  
CCA: ha anytime ter  
PAG: Yknow Eridan you're getting preeeeeeeetty chummy with a LANDWELLER like Terezi. I mean Im your kismesis, that's one thing, but that appeared like a solicitation of a 8it of a redder variety.  
CCA: WWHAT  
CCA: i wwas just sayin she wwas attractivve  
CCA: yknoww  
CCA: for a landwweller  
FGC: >:[  
FAC: XOO < hey im still trying to make a point here!  
FCT: D--> Yes while I am sure I will STRONGLY dislike said point  
FCT: D--> I command you f001s to remain silent with your drivel until my moirail is fini%ed speaking.  
FCT: D--> Espe%ially you seadweller   
CCA: aww wwhat the fuck  
CCA: vvris started it  
FAC: XOO < SHUT UP SHUT UP   
FAC: :33 < equihiss no one will be getting hurt, we will get to m33t new peopurr, and itll be a great way to purrrfect our moiraillegiance.  
FAC: :33 < im not saying things arent great but we have hit kind of a lull.  
FCT: D--> Hm   
FCT: D--> Fine we shall play this game   
FCT: D--> Together   
FAC: :33 < *ac claps her paws happily, tail swaying in excitement*  
CTA: ii2nt that more of a barkbea2t thiing?  
FAC: :33 < *ac tells pawllux to be quiet*  
CCC: )(a)(a)(a)(a)(a!  
FCG: CAN I JUST POINT OUT THAT NOT ONE FUCKING QUESTION HAS BEEN ANSWERED ON THIS FUCKING Q&A PAGE? THIS THING HAS JUST DEVOLVED INTO A BULGECRUSHING VORTEX OF DRAMA AND RELATIONSHIP BULLSHIT SO TYPICAL OF OUR SPECIES I'M SURPRISED OUR THINKPANS DON'T MELT THINKING ABOUT IT, OR AT THE LEAST DON'T BEGIN TO EXPAND FROM THE PURIFIED COMSIC STUPIDITY BEFORE ACHIEVING CRITICAL MASS AND COLLAPSING INTO ONE SINGULARITY OF TANGENTS AND FUCKING GOSSIP. I LOVE A GOOD ROMCOM AS MUCH AS THE NEXT ASSHOLE, BUT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE LEARNING SHIT HERE, LIKE *HOW THE FUCK THIS GAME WORKS*!  
FAC: :33 < you like romcoms too?  
FCG: LITERALLY NOT MY FUCKING POINT.  
CTA: look maybe ii 2hould ju2t get the oriigiinal maker two explaiin iit  
FCG: WHAT IS THIS A FUCKING TALK SHOW? BRINGING ON SPECIAL GUEST SPEAKERS? HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN IT YOURSELF IF YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DID THE FINAL PRODUCT? YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO BRING ON SOME ASSHOLE STRANGER BECAUSE YOUR TOO LAZY TO TYPE OUT AN EXPLANATION. I GUESS IT'S THE FUCK ITS TOO GODDAMN LATE SHOW WITH LISPY MCGEE!  
CTA: thank2 for the great 2how iintro kk  
CTA: now how about you a22hole2 put your hand2 together for aradiia megiido!  
CURRENT apocalypseArisen [CAA] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo  
CAA: y0ull all g0 and 0pen up the game which will result in it making a virtual c0py of y0ur hive that y0ur server player can manipulate at a whim. these manipulati0ns y0u the player will see and yes y0u will each be the server player t0 s0me0ne else. y0u all will gather in a large 0pen space as the game guides y0u t0 it and y0ur server player helps you reach it. 0nce there y0ull fight imps and the like that will be altered by whatever stuff y0u all thr0w 0nt0 a game kernel t0 make int0 y0ur guide-sprite. theyll drop c0l0rful grist that y0u can use t0 make and upgrade items by c0mbining them with 0ther items. each 0f y0u will als0 see a special w0rld f0r each tr0ll and unique quests y0u will all help each 0ther 0n until y0u all reach g0dtier (the highest level) after which y0u will take the fight to the black king and win the game.  
CURRENT apocalypseArisen [CAA] ceased responding to the memo  
PAG: ::::O  
FGC: >:O  
CAT: }:O  
PGA: Oh My  
FUTURE terminallyCapricious [FTC] 4:20 HOURS FROM NOW responded to the memo  
FTC: hOlY MoThErFuCk :oO  
FCT: D--> Hrrk!  
CCA: wwhat the fuck holy shit  
FCG: UH WHY THE FUCK IS EVERYBODY FLIPPING OUT? SOLLUX ISN'T THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND OR WHATEVER? YOU HAVENT REALLY TALKED ABOUT HER IN LIKE A SWEEP SO I FIGURED YOU GUYS HAD BROKEN UP.  
FCG: ANYONE? NEPETA? FEFERI? YOU ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO DIDNT GO ABOUT ACTING LIKE THE FUCKING MADE UP MESSIAHS OF YOUR RESPECTIVE CASTES CAME DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS ONLY TO SPEAK LIKE CLUCKBEASTS AND REVEAL THEY HAVE A HANKERING FOR FUCKING PRUNE JUICE AND DIRT.  
FAC: :// < no clue really  
CCC: Prawnestly I )(ave no idea!  
CTA: look kk you got your explanatiion of game mechaniic2  
CTA: doe2 anybody el2e feel liike briingiing up 2hiit now and not ju2t getiing 2tarted and a2kiing thiing2 a2 we get two them?  
CTA: .......  
CTA: .......  
CTA: ii thought not  
CTA: okay everybody ju2t 2tart runniing SGRUB.exe and we can begiin  
PAG: 8ut........  
PAG: Fucking fine!!!!!!!! 8ut 8 kn8w 8m n8t the 8nly 8ne wh8 wants answers 8fter this C8pt8r!!!!!!!!  
FGC: Y34H 1LL 3V3N FORC3 MYS3LF TO 4G33 W1TH VR1SK4 ON TH4T.  
CTA: fiine but AFTER the game  
CTA: alriight let2 do thii2  
CURRENT twinArmageddons [CTA] closed the memo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I don't know how childishgambino wrote Herding Cats chapters so quickly. Using the formatting for trollian logs is such a bitch and a half. 
> 
> Sooooooo.... yeah here's this Homestuck thing from 2013 I've decided to add on to. Don't worry I'm still working on The Force Shall Free Us, I've just hit a bit of a lull with it. Tell me what you think so far? I know there isn't much to go on, but I hope it isn't too terrible yet :P
> 
> If you think anyone seems a bit OOC, remember this is an AU where they had different lives. I purposefully tried to keep them a bit closer to canon in interactions here so it isn't obvious how everyone will end up, but I definitely let my personal headcanons and my knowledge of the characters' futures influence my writing of them.


	3. Conscription Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Destiny is decided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy is this lengthy for me. I would genuinely like feedback; should I chop this up? I was thinking either in half at Kanaya, or in thirds. Leaving it as one chapter is fine too, I'm just not sure if it's TOO long for one chapter, yknow?

Slowly, they were all funneled into a large make-shift stadium. A central platform and screen had been raised, with massive lightposts positioned to form a circle around eleven raised platforms. Each platform had two banners hanging above, one black and bearing the fuschia symbol of the Empire, the other monochrome, each of the first ten a shade of the hemospectrum, and the last a bland grey.

Trolls flooded the place, ushered by guards in uniform, moving to their assigned seats. All seemed an equal mix of apprehensive and excited, chatting with those who, for 9 sweeps, they had shared culture, religion, fashion, and even slang. Few spoke between platforms, not even those beneath the anonymous flag, those who had rejected their inherited Caste Culture, ironically forming their own customs and lifestyle. In truth, none who had arrived truly cared about the future of anyone not seated close to them, except for a chosen twelve, one found in each.

Ever since those fateful few days of play, they had become a connected coterie. In the intervening sweeps, they had drifted, had seen pride and scorn and heartbreak brings divisions, but despite that, they still were curious, eager even, to see how the trolls they had counted amongst their inner circles would fare in the ceremony that would decide their lives.

As the younger trolls took their seats, a Tealblooded woman moved to stand next to a large device at the central platform, flanked by guards. “Hello,” she said, voice clear and commanding, “Today is a day for truth. Today you will not only be officially made into citizens of the Alternian Empire, but find your place within the Empire, find how you will better yourselves, the Empire, your Caste, and all your fellow trolls. To quote the words spoken at the first Conscription Day but a generation ago, and spoken at all hence: Today is the First Day of your life, not as a troll, but an Imperial. With that, we shall begin.”

She grabbed a tablet-like device, looking down at it. “Beginning with the Violetbloods; Aacers Abulet!”

♓

Feferi tabbed around between cameras, trying to locate her friends in the crowds. She pouted a bit as she lost feed for a moment, but kept clacking at the keys of her husktop until the footage returned. Part of her wished she could attend, but she knew leaving the safety of her hidden hive was already risky, let alone appearing at a televised event. Not to mention her own future occupation was rather predetermined. Suddenly, however, she heard a familiar name, and focused back on the screen. But before she could up the volume, a knock came at her door. Confused, she slowly crept to the porte, opening it in suspicion. And she was greeted by an Imperial Drone.

♒

Eridan sat smugly as he chatted and laughed with his friends. The Violetbloods had made jokes mocking landdwellers, and it had genuinely made Eridan burst into hysterics. He saw the frowning face of a highblooded girl on the platform over, and so sneered and flicked his thumb on the corner of his facial-fin, the Violetblooded sign for a grand ol’ “fuck off,” with the addition of the uni-Caste middle finger for good measure. It resulted in Nektan giving him a pat on the back as the crew shared another laugh.

Caste culture wasn't always important to Eridan; he still never could really get into any of the cults, be they worshipping the womanly embodiment of the Seas, the one-legged ghost of a whale hunter, or just the Empress herself. But he after he and Feferi had drifted apart, he attended rallies and events and holidays, meeting more of his own kind, finding people who accepted him purely based upon the color of his blood, and he found contentment in that fact.

It wasn't long before he began running with supremacists and militants. They began to change him, and he just went along with it. Tossed out his capes and his turtlenecks and his striped pants and scarf (admittedly, he had hidden that one in a chest in his hive). He started wearing outdated military jackets, a white t-shirt, the sleeves rolled, underneath with pleated jeans, slicking his hair back. He defied everything he had ever thought of as his own taste and style in pursuit of acceptance. It had been they who convinced him to enlist.

Name called early on, Eridan had strode up to the DNAnalyzer®, placed his hand down and not even flinched at the pricking of his finger, letting the results throw themselves upon the main screen.

“AMPORA, ERIDAN   
VIOLET CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- NAVIGATIONAL EXPLORER  
\- DOMESTIC SECURITY  
\- COLONIAL HUNTER  
\- MUSICIAN  
CHOICE?"

He growled at the rather mundane and pathetic positions the machine claimed his blood was designed for, and spoke his decision with furious passion. "None, I, Eridan Ampora, do hereby enlist in the Alternian Imperial Navy."

And with that, his fate was sealed.

♑

Gamzee would’ve clapped at “Bro-idan” becoming a naval recruit, truly, if he had had the wherewithal to actually pay attention to the ceremony. Rather, the highblood had sat rigid, and slightly rubbed at his elbows and upper arms as he comforted himself. Quitting sopor had wrecked him, with terrors every day and numbness every night. The world felt too muted, too boring, too harsh to Gamzee as he attempted to better his habits. After all, the DNAnalyzer® would detect the excess sopor in his bloodwork, and Imperial Rehabilitation Centres were not places upon the highblood’s list of vacation spots.

He almost failed to hear his own name, and only rose when a rather sympathetic troll, one whose teeth were sharpened by acidic dissolving (the tell-tale sign of a current or former sopor-addict) nudged him. Slowly, the clown troll walked up the small steps up to the main platform. As his hand was pricked, Gamzee could not help but worry over what the machine claimed would be his fate.

“MAKARA, GAMZEE   
PURPLE CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- COMMISARIOTER   
\- SUBJUGGULATOR   
\- THRESHICUTIONER   
\- DARK CARNIVAL PRIEST   
CHOICE?"

Many a troll had gasped upon seeing the collection of occupations for the young purpleblood, shocked to see such violence in the veins of a lanky, apathetic individual as Gamzee. For his part, Gamzee simply gave a sigh of relief. “Priest!”

♐

Equius Zahhak was not the happiest troll who had attended Conscription Day. He was very worried about his moirail, who had done nothing but speak in cryptic comments the past few nights. Ever since that one night a sweep and a half ago, she had become so different. Where once she was playful, energetic, and outright silly, she had become focused, serious, and rather sarcastic. In fact, he found himself one of the few she ever made puns around. Normally, the blueblood would’ve chalked it up to the girl’s increasing time around Vriska, but after sweeps of friendship, he supposed it was too late to infringe upon such a bond. In truth, that was but one of many side effects of playing SGRUB, the silly little game, that Equius found rather unpleasing.

It was not to say he had not enjoyed other effects, of course. When he met and befriended the Heiress, he had found himself ecstatic, far happier and cheerier than before, as well as when he had found himself good friends with Kanaya and even Tavros. Yes, he supposed his bond with the bronzeblood was certainly odd, but after a few frank conversations, their shared amounts of utter self-loathing and lack of self-worth provided common ground. Not to mention it provided the greatest venue for experimenting with prosthetic limbs since he had created Nepeta’s tail for her.

Ah, but there she was, all his thoughts always returned to his beloved moirail. As he frowned, Equius attempted to troll Nepeta via his huskphone:

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]  
CT: D--> Nepeta, are you there?  
AC: :33 < equihiss you know we shouldnt be texting during the ceremony!  
CT: D--> You mean cerepony  
AC: :// < uhm  
CT: D--> I admit it was not my best pun  
AC: X33 < i was gonna say  
CT: D--> 100k I just wanted to make sure you were alright  
AC: :33 < im perfectly fine  
AC: :33 < actually wait  
AC: :33 < im purrrfectly fine h33 h33!  
CT: D--> Ha alright  
CT: D--> Thank you for humoring your f001i% moirail  
AC: :33 < dont worry equius were both going to be just fine!  
AC: :33 < besides your fussing makes you the best moirail!  
AC: :33 < <>  
CT: D--> <>  
centaursTesticle [CT] ceased trolling arsenicCatnip [AC]

After having spoken with Nepeta, Equius visibly relaxed. She was right, he told himself, as today would be a day in which they all found themselves, all found their proper callings. It was rather impeccable timing that as he as he thought those words, his name was called. He strode with calm, regal purpose in his suit that rivaled even the government official’s, with its void black fabric and tie that displayed his blood color with pride. He reminded himself that he really needed to give Kanaya a more proper thank you.

Hand on the device, he gazed at the screen with determination.

“ZAHHAK, EQUIUS   
BLUE CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- MEDICULLER ENGINEER  
\- ROBOTICS ENGINEER  
\- IMPERIAL EXECUTIONER  
\- CASTE CULTURE CURATOR  
CHOICE?"

There was little hesitation. “Mediculler Engineer,” he proclaimed, proud to serve his Empire in ensuring its troops and citizens were the best they could be.

♏

Vriska just wanted to go to hive. She didn’t want to go through Conscription, she didn’t want to leave everything she had ever known behind. If she had her way she’d get up, grab Nepeta, Kanaya, go to Feferi’s hive, and just relax in opulence the rest of her life. Not to mention she found everyone around her to be loathsome. It was not to say that she had never appreciated Caste Culture. In fact, she gave prayer at all 8 intervals a day to Lady Luck, and prided herself on her skills with the violin. But of course, that ironically made her only less connected with her fellow ceruleanbloods.

In truth, part of the Cerulean Caste Culture was total disbelief in said culture, using it purely to one’s advantage and for ironic purposes. But Vriska had always clung to it, believed in it with surprising genuineness. Then again, after she had alienated everyone, losing her arm and eye in the process, and left with only her murderous lusus for companionship, there wasn’t much else for her to find comfort in. Until the game.

But the game had come and passed, and while she had found new friends, none were of her Caste. Truly she had become an outcast among outca— “Hey one-eye, I can’t fucking see. Slouch down a bit, before I rip your other arm off,” growled voice of a far larger troll behind her, a fellow by the name of Uvenis, whom she had the misfortune to meet while FLARPing almost sweep prior, and who enjoyed mocking her injuries. Luckily, before Vriska could cause a fight and be forcibly removed by security, her name was called.

As she marched up to the central platform, Vriska couldn’t help but think once more about how all she wanted was a way to do as she pleased, when she pleased, where she pleased. And then her results appeared.

“SERKET, VRISKA   
CERULEAN CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- CHURCH OF FORTUNE PRIEST  
\- CHARITY ORGANIZER  
\- ORPHANED GRUB CARETAKER  
\- NAVIGATIONAL EXPLORER  
CHOICE?"

There was a bit of shock—and a few chuckles—when Vriska’s results showed rather gentle, kindhearted work, albeit ones focused on leadership and planning. But when the last one loaded itself on the monitor, the one-eye girl saw an opportunity. “Explorer!” she cried a bit overenthusiastically, the gears in her mind already turning. Yes, despite a few sweeps of complacency and depression, Vriska Serket finally had irons in the fire again.

♎

Terezi was one of the proud few seated at the Conscription Day who had their entire lives figured out. Of course, there lingered the possibility that after her blood was drawn the DNAnalyzer® displayed none of the careers Terezi had envisioned (H3H3H3) for herself. But such a chance was a low, and the tealblood had more confidence in herself and her skills than that. Thus, her own future had not been what plagued her mind, but that of those who had preceded her, those trolls she had come to know well during that game they had played in a time past.

Gamzee had always given her the chills, but he had always seemed so calm and passive; seeing him choose the most violent and bloodthirsty of all the violent and bloodthirsty positions offered to him was unsettling. Equius...well in truth she was more surprised his focus was on medicine and not robotics in full. Then there was Vriska, whose results had nearly made Terezi rise from her seat and cry foul; despite what any DNA stated, she knew the troll was dangerous, and her choice to become an explorer only seemed like a way for her to get away from prying eyes and regulations, a most certain recipe for disaster.

However, despite her shock, surprise, and suspicion, one troll stood out in her thoughts most: Eridan Ampora. The Navy sounded like a good fit for him she supposed, but despite all his chatter and pomp about landdweller genocide (which only got worse after his new ‘friends’ appeared) she could tell very easily that he was not one who thrived in wartime. One who could weather it and even succeed in it, sure, but she could, well, see that Eridan was a man who sought moments to simply be himself and to be without worries. Terezi would not say she was worried for him, but it was apparent his decision had received outside influence. Eventually, this brought her to troll him.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]  
GC: H3Y 3R1D4N, CONGR4TS, 1 GU3SS.  
GC: 1M SUR3 YOU’LL DO GR34T 4S 4 S41LOR.  
CA: oh hey ter  
CA: thanks i guess  
CA: ivve really been wwanting to enlist for a long time  
GC: H3H3H3H3 WH4T3V3R H4PP3N3D TO TH3 W4NN4B3 NOT-M4G1C1AN SC13NT1ST?  
CA: cmon ter wwe all havve to put aside childish dreams one day  
GC: 1 C4N UND3RST4ND TH4T, BUT 1S TH1S R34LLY WH4T YOU W4NT TO DO FOR3V3R >:?  
CA: wwhat do you mean a course it is!  
GC: YOU SUR3? SUR3 1T 1SN’T WH4T N3KT4N AND POS31D 4ND NIPTU4 4ND 4LL THOS3 OTH3R DOUCH3B4GS W4NT YOU TO DO?  
CA: okay ill ignore you shittalkin my friends this time  
CA: but seriously ter im my own troll i knoww wwhat i wwant  
CA: they dont control me  
CA: i can do wwhat i please wwhen i please  
GC: HMMM……1 GU3SS 1 4M B31NG 4 L1TTL3 H4RS  
GC: W41T 4 S3COND WHY 4R3 BOTH OF OUR T3XT COLORS TH3 S4M3 YUMMY GR4P3? WH3R3 1S MY SOUR-T4NGY T34L? >:?  
CA: oh i have administrative ability to change the font color on my chats so i made mine a uniform color  
CA: nothin wwrong wwith bein proud a my caste  
GC: YOU M34N YOU M4D3 1T 4LL PURPL3 SO YOUR TW1TFUCK FR13NDS DONT L34RN YOU CONSORT W1TH “NY3H F1LTHY L4NDDW3LL3RS NY3H.”  
CA: wwhat no  
CA: i did it because a vviolet pride and  
CA: wwell i mean is it a crime noww to havve groups of friends wwho wwouldnt get along?   
CA: fuck this may look kinda bad but   
GC: BY TH3 FUCK1NG SC4L3S OF TRUTH, 3RIDAN  
GC: 1 US3D TO F1ND YOUR WHOL3 1NF3R1OR1TY COMPL3X 4LMOST CUT3, BUT TH3 F4CT TH4T YOU US3 4SSH4TS L1K3 N3KT4N 4S 4 SOURC3 FOR 3MUL4T1ON 1S JUST P4TH3T1C 4ND S1CK3NING  
CA: you found me cute?   
GC: NOT MY PO1NT! GOG WHY TH3 FUCK 4M 1 3V3N TRY1NG TO H3LP YOU DO 1T?  
CA: wwait do wwhat?   
GC: S33 TH4T YOU'R3 GO1NG DOWN 4 SH1TTY P4TH, 3R1D4N!  
GC: 4CTU4LLY 1 C4NT FUCK1NG DO 1T. SO FUCK YOU FOR M4K1NG M3 G1V3 4 FUCK 3NOUGH TO 3V3N TRY! >:[  
gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]  
CA: wwait ter im sor   
CA: fuck   
caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

Terezi truly was not certain why she cared. There had really only been one moment in that game, when she had—within virtual reality, of course—faced certain death and he, seeming to forget the factitious nature of her peril, had come in gallantly and saved her. She met the real Eridan Ampora then, and knew him up until the game’s conclusion at the end of that week. And then he had vanished back within the false shell, which had become thicker and gaudier and douchier with each day that passed, a thought that left Terezi saddened, as if she had watched a bright light attempt to snuff itself out. She sat in silence until her name was called, and had no overconfidence or bravado as she took her designated place at the machine. None were shocked with the results on the screen.

“PYROPE, TEREZI   
TEAL CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- LEGISLACERATOR  
\- BRUTALICE OFFICER  
\- JUDGE  
\- IMPERIAL EXECUTIONER  
CHOICE?"

Perhaps in a tone a bit unenthused for the situation, Terezi called out, “Legislacerator,” and sealed her own path. She only wished she could aid others with theirs.

♍

Kanaya had a rather generic feeling towards the Conscription Day, as she had but merely clapped for all her friends, gave her moirail a thumbs up after she had chosen to become an explorer for the nation, and gave appropriate levels of happiness and pride towards each of those who had been Conscripted that she knew. And then had come her own turn.

Her long, shimmering dress flowed with grace behind her, and ironically made the announcer herself feel underdressed. A slender hand rested on the device before her, and her results quickly loaded.

“MARYAM, KANAYA   
JADE CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- MOTHERGRUB CARETAKER  
\- MEDICULLER SURGEON  
\- ORPHANED GRUB CARETAKER  
\- CASTE CULTURE CURATOR  
CHOICE?"

Everyone at the event had already rolled their eyes. They all looked at Kanaya, and knew that she, just as each Jadeblood who had been called up before her and every one of them that came after, would choose to be a Mothergrub Caretaker or an Orphaned Grub Caretaker. But Kanaya hesitated, paused, an oddity in that many assumed she was one of the few who knew precisely what they wanted. It took a full 34 seconds before her mind was made. Thus it was that Kanaya Maryam instantaneously, without need for blood or death or conquest, became a name for history lessons as she spoke aloud the words, “Caste Culture Curator.”

♌

Nepeta Leijon sat calmly in her seat awaiting her turn, and watched her friends choose their fates with a cheerful patience, ready and raring to select for herself. Of course with the initials of N.L. she knew it would be a long wait with such a populated caste. Her mind drifted to how much she had changed, and, more importantly, what had caused it.

It had been a beautiful night. She had gotten a goodday's rest, and had felt chipper and dandy, ready to take on the world at only 7 and a half sweeps old. It was supposed to be the day. The day she told him how she felt for the past plethora of perigrees since she had met him. Oh how foolish she was. He had a matesprit, she knew. And Mierfa was her friend, even if she hadn't known the ceruleanblood long. But Nepeta had to tell him, she had to tell Karkat, if only to get it off her chest.

There was no time for roleplay, especially since she knew it aggravated him. Best to just say it she thought:

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]  
AC: :33 < karkitty? you there?   
CG: FUCK OFF.   
AC: :33 < wait, karkitty   
AC: :33 < i mean karkat, fuck.   
AC: :33 < look I just need to tell you something and then i'll go.  
AC: :33 < i. i like you. a lot. a whole lot. i'm so utterly red for you it hurts and i'm sorry but i just had to tell you. i'd do anything to be with you, but i also want you to be happy. but then at the same time i just couldn't keep hiding it. 

It had seemed perfectly fine to her. She had told him. And even if he didn't reciprocate, it just felt good to admit it, to be open with her heart. And then he responded.

CG: YOU   
CG: YOU WOULD FUCKING DARE TELL ME THAT?   
CG: YOU WOULD DISRESPECT MIERFA AND TELL ME THAT?   
CG: FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU, YOU STUPID CATGIRL WITH YOUR STUPID FUCKING HAT, YOUR STUPID FUCKING TAIL, AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING SHIPPING.   
CG: YOU ARE FUCKING PATHETIC. YOU'RE A WASTE OF SPACE, A RETARDED CATGIRL WHO DOESN'T REALIZE NO ONE BUT HER CREEPY SWEATBALL DOUCHE OF A MOIRAIL AND A MURDEROUS PSYCHOPATHIC BITCH LIKE HER. YOU WANT SOMEONE TO BE RED FOR YOU? THEN TRY GETTING RID OF YOUR RAGGEDY ASS COAT AND THE FUCKING CAT SHOES AND TRY ACTING LIKE A NORMAL, DECENT FUCKING TROLL FOR ONCE.   
carcinoGeneticist [CG] blocked arsenicCatnip [AC]

She found out later that day the Mierfa had died. Karkat had assumed that she had known. That she had known and had attempted to use his time of mourning and weakness to worm her way into his quadrants. She knew he had just flipped out, misspoken, that he probably hadn't meant the words he had said. But it hurt all the same. Nepeta threw away the hat and shoes Pounce had helped make for her, and tore off the fun-fur from her tail. Her tail, that had been a gracious—and permanent—gift from her moirail. A well made, robotic appendage, grafted to her spine with enviable precision. It couldn't be thrown out, nor did she truly want to cast it asside, but from that day on she started to curl it around her torso and stomach or around one leg beneath her pants. The coat she had made herself was cast aside too—a hindrance in hunting, she justified. She even started to wear her hair back in "ponytail" as Equius called it, if only to change her look further. And, of course, her lovable palemate asked her why, what was wrong, but she only ever told him that she had decided it was time to move past "grubhood obsessions." She never mentioned that Karkat was one of those obsessions.

The girl those sweeps ago was a far cry from the one who sat at the Conscription Day ceremony, though the majority of those who knew her same shipper catgirl, and snickered at her changed style and habits as temporary, fleeting attempt to grow up. When her name was finally called, she made sure to act cutesy, and gave giggle while she hopped from her seat and scampered to place her hand in the scanning device.

“LEIJON, NEPETA   
OLIVE CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- COLONIAL HUNTER  
\- RELATIONSHIP COUNCILOR  
\- SCHOOLFEEDER  
\- JOURNALINSTIGATOR  
CHOICE?"

One deep breath came in. Then out. And again. Everyone watched her, some with raised eyebrows, others with eyes that rolled at results they clearly expected to see. Then Nepeta opened her mouth and spoke aloud the words that would change her life. "None. I, Nepeta Leijon, do hereby enlist in the Alternian Imperial Army."

♊

Sollux, upon a later date, would sum up his Conscription Day in one word: surprises. He was surprised when Eridan refused to explore the Cosmos and Seas to simply enlist with his hemoist buddies; surprised when Gamzee turned out to be a genetically perfect psychopath; surprised when Equius showed an interest in medicine; surprised as fuck to see anything at all nurturing in Vriska’s profile; surprised as how unexcited Terezi had seemed when she landed her dream career; surprised at Kanaya being the first of her caste to reject a Caretaker position; and surprised as ever loving fuck on a biscuit to see Nepeta of all people enlist in the military.

Not one outcome for his friends did Sollux guess or predict with true accuracy. Not even his own. Well, the initial outcome was correct, but the finale was a shock. As he strutted to the DNAnalyzer® with a swagger, Sollux knew all of his friends (even Eridan) had looked on in fear and anticipation. His hand went to the scanner. His finger was pricked. A drop of golden ichor flowed through the machine and was slowly processed. And then the results loaded with an excessive slow pace.

“CAPTOR, SOLLUX   
GOLD CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:  
\- CODEMEISTER  
\- GAMEGRUB DEVELOPER  
\- RELATIONSHIP COUNCSTAXSDACUX  
\- A45WXA7XC8SSCX  
ERROR: HIGH LEVEL PSIONIC.  
STATUS: INDENTURED”

The klaxon was almost like music in his ears. His surname meant he had gone early in his caste, and was the first of the Conscription Day to be enslaved, though he was certainly not the last. But it was the assignment given that shocked him, as he had braced for life as a Helmsman, as an Artilleryman, as a one-use Psionic Wonder Weapon.

“CAPTOR, SOLLUX   
GOLD CASTE   
STATUS: INDENTURED  
ASSIGNED: MINING SLAVE”

Sollux knew, knew without doubt that his power levels made him far more valuable than to simply be forced to mine away at ore in a far off meteor or colony. But yet that was his fate, a fate in which his personhood, his mind, his body could and would remain his own to use, albeit on the orders of another. He thanked any and all gods for such a miracle.

♉

Tavros shed a tear as he watched Sollux, cool, calm, sarcastic, ever prepared Sollux be collared and dragged away to holding ship just behind the main screen and stage. Many more goldbloods joined him, but only Sollux had struck a cord. Yet this only strengthened the bronzeblood’s resolve to make the best of his future, to live for those like Sollux who would not be allowed to. Nepeta had said such words to him before everyone had found their seats, and had given him explicit advice on how to do just that. After he saw her enlist proudly, it had made her words fester further in his mind. Sollux was the final straw; he would become stronger and live a life of full potential.

His name called after a long period of waiting, Tavros slowly walked to the stage. Robotic gears lightly whirred in his legs, the limbs gifted to him by Equius after the two had found themselves unlikely compatriots during the game they had played as youth. They made him whole, made him able to have any choice of career and future, most definitely the one that was locked into his mind. Tavros told himself to remind Equius that he owed the man any favor, at any time in exchange.  
Hand on the scanner, his fate came into view:

“NITRAM, TAVROS   
BRONZE CASTE   
POSITIONS POSSIBLE:   
\- COLONIAL HUNTER  
\- AGRARIANIST  
\- COLONIAL BEAST-TAMER  
\- THESPIAN  
CHOICE?”

“None. I, Tavros Nitram,” he began, voice cracking a bit, “do hereby enlist in the Alternian Imperial Army." He gazed right at Nepeta in the Olive section, both sharing proud grins.

♈

She could feel it. The void. It tugged at her, demanded she submit, told her with each moment that passed that she was losing time to prepare, told her someone waited for her on the other side, to train her, of all things. It took energy and focus to remain in the physical plain, let alone tangible and corporeal. But she did it, she did it as she watched her friends’ Conscription Day from afar in a field. But then she heard the alarm, and saw what was happening to Sollux.

Aradia should’ve known it would come, but somehow was unable to believe. As an invisible spectre she looked at the machine that was processing the Goldblood’s fate. Electromagnetic energy danced between her ethereal fingertips, and she willed the device, demanded it, to obey her. The control was minimal, and his enslavement final, and so Aradia did the best she could for the troll she loved, and forced the device to assign him to be but a mining slave.

Exhaustion then struck, the former rustblood’s reserves of energy drained in having to combat the system’s programming. Rest called out to her, beckoned her, and this time she was unable to resist. In but a few moments, Aradia Megido ceased to exist.

A few moments after that, she awoke to gaze at the smug form of a woman garbed in green.

♋

Karkat had done his best to ignore everything. He knew, he heard what each of his compatriots of old had received as their fate. Sollux had been the only one that truly hurt, and yet was perhaps the best outcome for steeling Karkat to his own destiny. His friend, his sleazeball, snarky, scumbag friend, had marched to his doom with his head high, and without resistance. How could Karkat not try the same? How could he not make the same sacrifice to play his part for the Empire he had only ever wanted to be a part of? These thoughts swirled as the anonymous blooded trolls were slowly called up, their true color categorized, and their occupations given.

But other thoughts reared their heads, and asked why Sollux did not fight, asked why he did not use his psionic power to wipe away all who would try to stop his freedom. Of course he knew why; Sollux could never survive as an outcast, his energy signature so trackable and his poor mental health spelling failure in one way or another. But Karkat’s mind seemed bent on the notion that resistance to the death was better than a life in complacency. Still his two sides, his inner patriot and his inner rebel, clashed and bickered as his name was called and as he approached the main platform.

It was a slow movement he made, placing his hand on the scanner. He watched, and the world itself seemed to slowdown, as the needle hit his finger, as a drop of scarlet-hued fluid of life moved through the tubes and components. The Patriot and the Rebel argued back and forth, and in reality it would be whoever was winning when the results registered he would likely follow.

“VANTAS, KARKAT   
S758GHT&(FAQ*YSI(*K;L CASTE   
WARNING: MUTANT DETECTED! MUTANT DETECTED! MUTANT DETECTED!”

The world was still in slow-motion, the guards yet to properly react, as well as the crowd. This was the moment, the most crucial moment in Alternian history, and the moment that would resolve eternally the conflict in Karkat’s mind. And the Rebel had won.

Karkat reached with quickness he barely knew he had, and grabbed the bolt-firing spear of the first guard, with which he proceeded to fire a purple payload of plasma directly through the guard’s think-pan. The mutant then twirled, firing at the second guard and then the main speaker with little hesitation. But suddenly the world was back in motion, and more guards and drones were on course to fight him. Karkat then acted on instinct, and grabbed the microphone.

“My fellow trolls! Now is the time to choose freedom over slavery! To choose to break free of the artificial confines we call caste and bloodcolor and become our own people! Fight with me now! Fight to flee with me so we may choose our own destinies, not those forced upon us!” He didn’t know where the speech came from, why his style had become clean and philosophical, but it was not the time for him to ponder on such issues. Before him, a surprising number had heard his words and agreed, and those who did then tackled and fought guards, blasting at them. Most were lowblooded, but the high stood in their numbers as well. With a roar, Karkat gave a rallying signal and charged towards the dense forest just a few yards away from the ring of lights, and his followers, though many lied dead from drone fire, ran with him.

-⚔-

In that moment, despite all attempts and choices made, despite all worries and wants, the fate of all trolls was decided, set in a stone that would soon find itself bloodied in all shades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I wrote this pretty late, so it isn't my best work, but I hope everyone was decently surprised by events. Think I should chop up the chapter? Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!


	4. Aquarius Ascendant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the greatest Hope for the Empire is found not in a being of light and joy, but one of misery and pain. It is found not in one who has Hope, but in one who needs it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote Eridan's establishing chapter first for a few reasons. Not the least of which is how much of an interesting character I find him to be. However, he also serves as an example of just how much the trolls we know have changed and grown from their experiences in this AU. Plus his backstory holds no spoilers for the others.
> 
> NOTE: To translate Eridan's typing quirk, which he confirms is a representation of his own accent, I have him switch all his v's and w's in speech, as stutters make no sense for accents, and the v-w swap is a classic stereotype of accents for German and/or Eastern European villains (his theme calls him Sea-Hitler).

♒

“This is Ensign Ampora! Ve are pinned down! I repeated, pinned down! Wericuse Outpost 3 is under siege!” he screamed into the communication console. Weapons’ fire whizzed through the door not far from him, and as he turned, Eridan had just enough time to place a few rounds of lithium-plasma infused bullets into the colonial that had breached his position. “For the sake a vhatewer god you follow, just fuckin’ start reinforcin’ us!” he roared again. This time a string of bulbs lit up the console as a reply came through via audio transmission.

“Watch your tone _ensign_. Where’s Commander Turick?”

“That pissblooded—”

“Ensign!”

“Fine, _gold_ blooded _shithead_ got himself and most of the team killed nearly an hour ago! I’m in command right now. Hell I’m not wery certain of how many either.”

“...There is only one available unit that we can have rerouted to your location. Seems to be StygOps. You need to give them 22 minutes before they can feasibly be in position to aid your team.”

“Vhy is it alvays two’s?”

“What was that, ensign? You mumbled too quietly.”

“Nothing, sir. Ve vill give them time. Just make them haul their landdwellin’ asses!”

With that, Eridan shut off the console, and ran over to the doorway and returned fire, unsurprised to see his whole squad dead sans one injured blueblood. “For fuck’s sake!” he cried, and cut his losses; he put in an override code into the door, and it slammed shut, sealing himself in. He was without the ability to leave with the permanent lockdown in place, but the rebels were going to need a good deal of time to actually breach the bunker. As his last teammate banged on the door to be let in, Eridan began to massage his temples in frustration.

 

-⚔-

 

Life in the Navy had been harder than expected for Eridan. The occasional put down of colonial revolts at various refueling stations he had been assigned to was most certainly _not_ expected, but became increasingly easy. And deployment on water-worlds had thrilled him, sailing the high seas in service to the Crown; but the crew Eridan found himself amongst made it more difficult than he had imagined. Sure, integration was one thing, but from how his friends had once described it, the Navy was supposed to be the playground of the seadwellers, with every officer worth a flip being of the same mauvine hue. But Eridan rarely saw more than two seadwellers with a higher rank than him on the vessels he had served upon. And as the lower blooded barked at him to obey, he seethed. Luck, however, remained on his side; one day he moved to a vessel that contained a surprising number of his old supremacist fellows. They all loathed their lowblooded superiors, scoffed at the notion that an integrated military provided any benefits; higherbloods were superior naturally, why require them to ascend ranks?

“This is such bullshit!” Nektan growled as he scrubbed the lower deck floor with increased intensity. “That mudblooded fuck should be groveling at our goddam heels!”

Eridan smirked as he used his mop. “Yeah...Vish one of us vould actually get promoted to the top. ‘Spose the captain has a grudge ‘gainst us now.”

“Grudge? The captain? Are you fucking dense, Ed?” the other troll mocked, and paused in his work. “It isn’t that the captain has some grudge. It’s the fucking Summoner Conspiracy!”

“The vhat?”

“The Summoner Conspiracy! Y’know, the reversal of the almighty spectrum?”

“Oh right, and the Empress has greenblood. Cmon, that’s just bullshit.”

“It isn’t bullshit! When was the last time you saw a seadwellin’ commandin’ officer?”

“Nek, numerically ve’re gonna get outnumbered. Ve only make up so much a the population.”

“If that’s true then why hasn’t a single one of us been promoted since we got here? Fuck, I want the numbers for promotions of _every_ seadweller in the Navy.”

“Vhat are you saying?”

“Man, our time apart softened you, Ed. It’s obvious! The gutterbloods swarmed in, got promoted, and now they’re holdin’ back we capable seadwellers out of command from resentment!”

“Look ewen if that vere true, they can’t do it indefinitely. Ve are still a poverful caste.”

“We can’t know that! We gotta take matters into our hands, Ed. You’ll see. We’re all about to start getting the positions we _deserve_.”

There was no question in Eridan’s mind after that day about why so many of their commanders died on battlefields or from food poisoning or tripping off deck. And he didn't care, rose in the ranks alongside everyone else is his coterie. But then had come that fateful day.

 

-⚔-

 

It was simple; they were to arrive at a backwater colony that had been transformed into a pirate haven. Go in, kill anything beneath a non-tyrian banner, and go hive. They had done it plenty of times—under their rustblooded captain. Now Nektan Whelan, the leader of their "Violet Power" group, had ascended, but Eridan found that the man showed little skill in the position. Nepotism, embezzlement, crew abuse. As they entered orbit and began splash down, Eridan already felt in his gut the calamity that approached.

“Get that hatch, men! Ve’re approaching the enemy!” he roared, and he watched as the crew scurried, trying to get the ship combat ready, while a terrible storm raged around them. A storm the captain should’ve used as a reason to hold off invasion for another few hours. Of course, from the day since Captain Whelan’s rise to power, he had retreated more and more to the captain’s quarters. In turn, Eridan, as the appointed Executive Officer, had tried like mad to get the crew in hand.

“Hatch secured, sir!”

“Good! Lieutenant, begin raising outer shield generators! I don’t vant this ship getting scratched up.”

“Oh, wouldn’t want to get your paintjob ruined, fucking finface…”

“The fuck vas that, Lieutenant?”

“Raising outer generator, sir!”

“Like I fucking thought! Ve need to be ready, this storm is making it a bitch to see. Ve cannot let the enemy sneak up o—”

“Incoming!” a voice screamed. To his left, Eridan heard the crutch of steel and wood. A moment later the platform he had stood upon exploded, and he was blasted back. His ears rang, the world out of focus. But figures could still be made out, the crew panicking. Another explosion rocked the ship and several men were flung overboard. The smart-mouthed lieutenant had not gotten the generators up in time, and but stood in shock and fear by the crank. A harpoon came then, carving its way through his torso before pulling him off deck.

Eridan fought his disorientation and rose to his feet. His sidearm had fallen off his belt, and thus Ahab’s Crosshairs was slung off his back and readied to a lower setting as to avoid destroying his own ship and comrades. A pirate swung onto deck moments later, only to be met by hot blue energy that incinerated his upper body. Another came from the right, and Eridan took aim, the head of the insurgent soon displaced. To the left came a crazed roar and he looked just in time to see a massive tealblood charge at him with a proper cutlass. The seadweller rose Ahab’s Crosshairs upwards and caught the blade on the stock. He kicked the offender in the gut and brought the but of the Crosshairs hard into the troll’s face. There was a satisfying crunch loud enough to tell him the man’s soon-after spasming was from bone in his thinkpan matter. Eridan looked around, and found the battle was not turning in Imperial favor. He cursed, and turned to rush inside to ready the interior crew for battle, when another explosion came, one that sent Eridan several feet into the air. He hit the ground with a thud, and fell into unconsciousness.

 

-⚔-

 

Hours passed without his knowledge. By the time Eridan lifted his face from the sand to gaze upon the beach before him, the storm was long gone, and behind him, in the water, the HICS _Intrepid_ laid a half sunken ruin. His mind reacted quickly, and he took stock of his situation; he was alone, on one of the many uninhabited islands that dotted the colony, with no means off planet, and no means of communication to anyone on planet. And anyone who sailed past was likely a bloodthirsty pirate. “Fuck.”

As the night wore on, he searched for anyone else alive, but was met only by corpses and bloody clothes. After a few hours, he sat in the shade of a tree, devoid of hope. But then there came a voice.

“Hey!” it called, somewhere in the distance, and Eridan scrambles to his feet. As much as his heart wanted it to be a fellow member of the crew, he was not foolish enough to dismiss the very real possibility that a pirate had come back and found him.

“Are...Are you a friend? Or a foe?” he called back, unable to see the person. “Choose carefully or be struck down vith awengence!”

“XO Ampora?” it suddenly said, the voice now directly behind him.

As he whirled, Eridan nearly attacked the troll before him, until the name he gave and the tattered uniform on his person made him realize he had actually found a friendly face on the godforesaken island he had washed ashore on. The troll had a cut on his brow, and a deep maroon seepage was dried beneath it. He extended his hand to Eridan. “Good to see you again, sir. Second Lieutenant Tritoh, sir. Xefros Tritoh.”

Eridan reacted in a sensible and orderly fashion. “Oh great. Whole fuckin ship goes down, and I get the fuckin’ rustblood for company.” It was not without a flourish that he stalked off to sit beneath another tree along the shoreline. Xefros sat beneath the first, bearing a frown of confusion.

Two days past, and Eridan stuck to the shoreline, while Xefros would venture off into the jungles. And that suited Eridan just fine; it angered him to see the lowblood, angered him to know that fate had taken from him all his friends and allies and left him with but his natural enemy. Three days in, he saw the rustblood hold a plump piece of fruit, but he refused to approach him for a piece, and but glared when awoke from a nap to find half of the thing placed beside him. It was left to rot. On the fifth day, Eridan waded into the water, and dove beneath, but found little lived in the tide. But there came a flash of movement, and the seadweller moved with slow precision to follow it. Before him was a thin, small, leathery fish that believed itself hidden in the dark water, but Eridan’s eyes were tuned to see in the murky depths of an abyss, and so he threw his arm forward, and snatched the fish between his fingers. With a tight squeeze, his grasp snapped the thing’s spine. Eridan grinned; he would not have to debase himself to eat on the charity of the rustblood.

But, of course, his luck was not _that_ positive. The fish tasted terrible, a combination of rancid poultry and asphalt tar. And with its size, what little of the tough, disgusting meat there was had small, spiny bones within it, upon which Eridan choked and cut up his mouth several times. In the morning of the sixth day, he found half a fruit beside him. He ate it, and savored the sweet flavor. It was on the seventh day that his pride rested, and wandered over to where Xefros sat beneath his tree, a small pile of fruit from the edge of the jungle waiting.

He said nothing, and Eridan said nothing, they merely sat and ate fruit. They sat there and watched the trinary suns of the alien world, so unlike the bright moons of Alternia, or even the eerie glow of the rings they both once gazed upon at the academy on the colony of Beforus. The suns set, and Eridan rose; he returned to his tree, and slept by his small fire, and Xefros by his own.

When Xefros awoke, Eridan sat next to him gazing off at the ocean. “Ve need to figure out how ve are goin’ to get back,” he said, fixated on a large wave that crashed against the rocks a mile out in the sea.

Xefros sobered himself from the aftereffects of sleep quickly, “Well, sir,” he started before he had to yawn, “I’ve been putting some thought to that and...well I’m honestly not sure we can. The wreck of the _Intrepid_ is too far gone; no way any of the beacons are in tact from the fire, pressure, and water combined. That half of the ship ain’t even the one we can see from here anyways. But there’s tons of fruit, I’ve seen some critters of the prey variety we can go after. Water’s all fresh on this planet too! So it ain’t like we’re gonna die. I say we wait it out; either the Empire’ll send another ship to investigate our wreck and complete our mission when we don’t report in, or some scavengers, of the non-pirate variety, might come by that we can flag down. ‘Course, if those scavengers _are_ of the pirate variety...we hide.”

“So that’s the plan? Get fat on fruit and either vait for some other louts that have come to finish our job or snag a ride home on a junk schooner?”

“Pretty much, sir.”

“No scroungin’ for beacons in cold and monster infested vater?”

“No, sir. I mean I guess we could and all, and I’m no coward, sir, if that’s what you’re thinking, but—”

“Shut up, Tritoh. Jus’ answer my questions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So as I vas sayin’; No scroungin’ for beacons in cold and monster infested vater?”

“No, sir.”

“No murderin’ a crew a pirates and nickin’ their craft?”

“Wasn’t on my agenda, sir.”

“And ve have no people barkin’ orders at us on this entire island?”

“Uhm, no, sir. ‘Cept you at me.”

“And no one ve have to posture to, impress, or try an’ fit in vith?”

“No, sir.”

“No society tellin’ us who to be?”

“No, sir.”

“And we have clean water, sweet fruit, and likely fresh meat in easy reach?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tritoh?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ like it here.”

 

-⚔-

 

They spoke for a long time that night, finding they rooted for the same sports teams, had similar taste in bands, both enjoyed a glass of Cognac after a meal. It was a great irony to Eridan, to find a friend, a kindred spirit, not in a seadweller or a highblood, but a troll at the bottom of the spectrum he so venerated, or at least claimed to venerate. The irony was not lost on Xefros either.

“Eridan?”

“Yeah, Xef?”

“So it’s almost been a perigee since we’ve been here.”

“Holy fuck? Really?”

“Yeah I mean, time can fly.”

“No, I mean how the fuck have you been keepin’ track?”

“Oh! My watch still works. Solar powered. Has the date too, and I remembered the date we were supposed to splash down and begin the op.”

“Huh. A whole fuckin’ perigee. Vow…”

“Well, almost one. Anyways, I mean, that means I’ve known you that long. And we’ve had plenty of in-depth conversations. Some bloodpusher-to-bloodpusher’s. And that thing when we found out that those blue berries had ethanol…”

“I am sorry about that.”

“No no, it’s cool, I already told you. I mean after Captain Whelan banned sexual fraternization, plus this time on the island… I kinda needed it too. Just glad we can put it behind us.”

“Vell,” Eridan said, “it vas more _you_ puttin’ _me_ behind _you_.” He smugly took a sip of water from his shell-cup.

“Eridan Ampora, classy as always.”

“Like Troll James Bond and Troll Gordon Gekko had a fuckin’ vriggler.”

“Can I get to my point?”

“Sure; you spent enough time on my point as is.”

“Fuck you, man. Seriously.”

“I’ll leave that one be. Too easy.”

“That’s why I said it. Now, what I was tryin to get to was that, well, I mean I guess that tangent adds to my point; you aren’t what you seemed like you’d be. Not like how you were on the _Intrepid_. I mean...you were mates with Nektan Whelan. Not to mention Poseid Colyat and Niptua fuckin’ Vreler. That woman fuckin’ shot nine of her own men on a mission because they were too low on the spectrum! Before the mission!”

“Hey that vas nehwer prue-wen! There vere snipers!”

“Yeah, snipers with small arms ammunition in their guns, and who only hit every guy under cerulean in the group. Look, what I mean is; you’re not as...well you don’t look at me like I’m garbage, and you’re a decent, nice, often funny guy. I mean yeah you were a fuckin’ hemoist asshat who would rather starve and/or choke on nasty fish than interact with me for a bit, but after those first few days you just became...cool.”

“And you’re vonderin’ vhy I’m like that vhen I’m part of the Wiolet Pow-ver group…”

“Yeah.”

Eridan sighed, and grabbed one of the aforementioned ethanol berries before he explained. After a pause as he ate the fruit and let it give him liquid courage, Eridan sighed once again. “Vell… I mean I used to have friends of all colors. I mean I vas a, uh, ‘fuckin hemoist asshat’ first, but then I played this game one of those friends made and ve all came to know each other. And then...vell then I got other friends. Like Nektan. But the only vay to keep the new friends vas to...go back to old habits. Actually, go back to those and more, jus’ vhatehwer they vanted me to do so I could be one of them… I guess that’s pretty pathetic.”

Xefros was quiet for a moment. “I used to have this friend. His name was Dammek. Bronzeblood. We were in this band, wanting to be kings of the genre, dreaming of going all the way to the top. Even when the war first came, we kept talking about our dream, and when we heard about the idea of Conscription Day, we thought we’d be a shoo-in for musicians. Funny enough that popped up on both of our boards... But during the war some newer friends I had started…changing…”

Eridan was confused as to where the troll was to go, as well as having just registered the sobering thought that Xefros was a good 6 sweeps older than him, not to mention a veteran, and yet still lower than him in rank. Not by much, but in what he recalled of the troll’s performance aboard the _Intrepid_ , it was enough that anyone should have called foul. It certainly made sure that any and all of Nektan’s old talk of a Summoner Conspiracy became increasingly invalidated in his mind.

“These friends of mine, they were the gungho type. All rustblooded. All clamoring to enlist, saying it was time to show the Empire just what it’s lowest caste could do; prove ourselves as fine Imperial Citizens. And I went right with ‘em. Still would, honestly. Proud to serve, proud to obey. But Dammek didn’t believe in all that. So I had two groups of friends of conflicting ideals. And one day the patriotic bunch started talking all sorts of shit about the type of music Dammek and I used to play. And I joined in. Stopped listening to it. After a while I stopped talking to Dammek altogether. All that in less than two full perigees. I enlisted. Fought in the war’s last days, helped hunt down human stragglers. Wasn’t until all my old friends were dead that I started listening to my music again. Don’t know where Dammek went; I swear he vanished from the face of Alternia. My point, I guess, is that, now that you’ve explained I understand, changing yourself to fit in. Losing part of yourself.”

It was Eridan's turn to sit in a silence a few moments before he responded. “Hey… You and me? Ve are two examples to prove that that part? Not lost. Just buried. You started listenin’ to that music again. From how ve’re talkin’ now it’s not hard to say I have certainly shed my old prejudices a good deal. And now we can both move forvard, vhen ve get back hive, knowin’ now that ve should neh-wer try to bury that stuff again.”

“Eridan, y’know, you're a pretty great frie—" Xefros stopped suddenly, staring off at the sea in fear. "What the fuck is that?!” he then suddenly exclaimed, and he pointed off to the water. Eridan looked at the location specified, and felt his gut churn in fear. In the midst of their conversation, they had both failed to miss the pirate vessel that had silently crept into the island’s waters. And there the pair sat, not far from the wreckage of an Imperial vessel, garbed in the uniforms of Imperial Naval Officers. There was no opportunity to hide, though had they hidden at the right time, they would have avoided being seen, but as it stood there was little doubt if the marauders had laid eyes upon them on the shore, especially as the vessel had turned itself and moved towards their coast rather than the outer wreckage. Pirates crawled down the side to rafts, and sped closer still. The two sailors were frozen before they locked eyes. “Run!” they shouted in sync, and scrambled to rise and flee right as a pirate squad set their boots in the sand.

The pursuit that came was not unexpected. Plasma-rounds whizzed past them and singed their hair lightly. Xefros had taken the lead, as Eridan’s body faltered faster while it gasped dry air over the wet flows of the ocean. But the rustblood started to slow and trip, and the gang of purpleblooded pirates gained on them more and more as they traversed deeper and deeper into the jungle. And then came a cacophony of growls.

Everyone, from the two sailors to the pirates, froze, eyes lit with panic as they searched the jungle’s shadows. Suddenly, creatures descended from the trees, and pounced on the physically larger and more heavily armed pursuers. They were a mottled green and black hue, massive in size, with three digits per limb and feline-like structure, despite their feathers. The beasts wasted little time before they devoured the bodies with ferocious appetites.

Eridan and Xefros, hands linked, tried to edge away from the creatures as they gorged themselves, but a few rustled leaves gave away their position, and part of the pride casted hungry eyes at them. One particularly lean one leapt at them, independent of its group; Eridan felt it clearly as two long, straight gashes marred the left side of his face. His fist hit the thing a moment later; it was knocked back as Eridan fell down, and the thing retreated to mingle within the pride once more.

As he lied on the ground, as he bled his fine grape ichor onto the earth, Xefros loomed over him protectively, and the rustblood looked behind himself and back to beasts repeatedly before he looked down at the seadweller.

“Eridan?” he called down.

“Yes, Xef?” he shakily responded.

“The South Imperial Cup happened last week. Remember? We each made our bets on who would win.”

“I…Yeah. I remember…”

“Promise me you’ll put all 200 Caegars on my grave when find out the Silver Rivers won, okay?”

“Xef, wha—”

The beasts struck then, and Xefros used his grip on Eridan’s thigh and shoulder to heave him in a circle. He was tossed straight down a hole in the ground behind the rustblood, and slid along vines and stones and dirt as the steep decline of the narrow hole took him deeper. The tumble filled him with pain on top of his injured face, but Eridan made no sounds of pain or raised any complaint, as the sounds of Xefros’s screams reverberated within the tunnel. He experienced a front row, auditory rendition of the lowblood’s death, his pained wails suddenly silenced as the wet slop of flesh as it was devoured replaced them. Eridan remained still, even as tears slid out of his good eye, for hours; not in fear or pain, but grief.

 

-⚔-

 

The tunnel eventually stabilized to a horizontal orientation, and Eridan crawled onwards through it. After what felt like an eternity underneath the layers of the surface—during which Eridan wondered if he were in fact dead and but being tormented—he finally found an exit. It was night, and before him, just beyond the shallows, the pirate vessel laid in wait. It was without emotion that Eridan walked straight into the water, and sunk beneath the waves. It was without emotion that he drew the crude bone blade he had fashioned to hunt the small snoutbeast-like creatures of the island. It was _not_ without emotion that he killed the remaining buccaneers in their sleep.

 

-⚔-

 

With a start, Eridan Ampora awoke. As he looked around him, he realized he had fallen asleep whilst reviewing reports, his mind having taken him back to the time of his early service. He gazed down at the bone blade he had kept from his time on the island; it sat proudly in a simple glass box, held aloft lengthwise by two metal spokes. He words he had carved along it gazed back at him: _Buried, Not Lost_.

He stood and straightened himself out, pulling on his black uniform, with its gold and fuschia accents, until it was crisp and stiff on his tall and developed form. His own sign was emblazoned in violet on the left breast, and the Imperial sigil on either shoulder was covered by the purple Inverness cape he had taken to wearing, an echo of his grubhood, with a worn bit of blue striped fabric tied like sash at his waist—its time as a neckwarmer long since ended—being another. Leather gloves adorned his hands, but a single gold signet ring on the right, and thin, square glasses rested on his nose before piercing violet eyes, and two deep gouges ran parallel over the left. He looked in the mirror beyond his desk, and gave final musings over the experiences he had relived in his dreams.

When he finally returned to civilization, Eridan found himself changed. The hemospectrum mattered little to him from that point onward, and soon he began to actually ascend the ranks on his own merit, quick to crack down on any and all bigots who sought to disjoint the unity and efficiency of his crew. Those few of his old hemoist friends that had survived to serve beneath him found no leniency beneath his boot, but faced no persecution. Eridan was done with prejudice, done with bias. All he cared for, all that mattered to him, was loyalty; to one’s crew, and to one’s country.

He garnered many adult titles; the Arbiter, the Negotiator, the Pirate Scourge, the Taskmaster, even Twainscar. In his youth, the latter most would have elated him, would’ve been what demanded all addressed him as. But as an adult he had long since put away grubhood obsessions. Many called him many things. But one title had always felt the rightest, it being the simplest, the most formal and generic, but that which he was proudest, which summed up all that he was with little fanfare.

He was Eridan Ampora, Grand Fleet Marshal of the Imperial Navy, commanding the entire might of the Empire's vessels, be they maritime or stellar, the right hand of the Imperial Spymaster, and enforcer of the fair, righteous meritocracy the Edicts dictated.

He was the Admiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? Comments and Reviews are greatly appreciated and provide great motivation.
> 
> I'll also be deciding whose establishing chapter comes next based on demand in the comments. If you don't wanna review, then just leave the troll's name you wanna read about next.
> 
> As a note, I was wondering if you guys could help me out; I really want to help get this fic exposure, so please, if you're willing, share this fic and show it to people.


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